Amy E Moulton History 20s.04, Silbey Final Paper Rough Draft 3/12/98
The History of Recent Soviet Censorship as Demonstrated in Vasilii
Aksyonov's The Steel Bird
The Tsarist censorship was so primitive that it did not even conceal
its existence. By contrast the Communist censorship in the Soviet Union
does not exist and that is why it is so powerful, comprehensive, total.
-Vasily Aksyonov, 1982
The Stalin era of Soviet propaganda and censorship is fairly well
known and condemned outside of Russia. However, within Russia, major
post-Stalin efforts and resources have been dedicated to maintaining
many of the limitations on literature that had been established before
and during World War II. The 1953 death of Stalin brought very minimal
loosening of regulations. However, leadership transition and unsettled
Party organization between 1953 and 1964 "gave both hope and certain
possibilities of development to the liberal forces" in the arts (Kasack
25). This optimistic time called "the Thaw," began with about three
years of changing leadership and then continued throughout the
leadership of Nikita Khrushchev. He made grandiose declarations of new
freedom for the arts but actually continued plenty of long-established
censoring practices. It was during the uncertain and inconsistent
years of the Thaw that Kazan author Vassily Aksyonov wrote a "total
satire" novella, called The Steel Bird, which was not published in the
Soviet Union until 1977 (Kustanovich 29; Proffer xi-xii). The history
and basic content of this one piece of literature, originally written
in 1965, can be examined to reveal the persistence of Soviet censorship
of literature as well as the struggles of Russian native and ÈmigrÈ
writers. Aksyonov is one of many authors to fall in and out of Soviet
approval over the past 40 years. His The Steel Bird fits securely into
the confusion, as a work of fantastic, sarcastic, and symbolic content,
that allows a wide range of interpretation. Like so many other bold
and innovative writings, The Steel Bird's fate has been determined by
Soviet censorship rather than pure literary issues. I WILL IMPROVE THIS
SUMMARY OF THE STORY. IT'S OBVIOUSLY A BIT ABRUPT. Popenkov, the
"hero," follows a party official to apartment Housing Officer,
Nikolayevich, looking for free housing. He lives in the apartment
lobby, eventually befriending the paying residents. He seems to be
physically sick but he builds up a sort of following in the
apartment. He is generally perceived as selfless and pure of heart,
but he manipulates the residents into supporting him and giving him
total control of the apartment entrance. His follower's support
continues to swell, except for a few dissidents, and he goes to
extremes, stealing wives and commanding labor forces in the
apartment. We learn that Popenkov's physical ailments were simply
growing pains; he is transforming into a steel bird. He develops a
metallic language which dedicated followers just start to learn as
disaster develops. The building begins to collapse because of
Popenkov's increasingly heavy steel body. The people finally recognize
the danger of Popenkov's domination, and they escape before the building
collapses. He survives and flies off, leaving a double trail of smoke
behind him. A short description of Aksyonov's entire literary history,
beyond just the The Steel Bird's history, best demonstrates the general
mystery of recent Soviet censorship. In short, Aksyonov was transformed
"from superstar of the sixties to non-person" in 1981 through the
workings of Soviet philosophy and leadership (Proffer x). At the
beginning of his literary career, "he became simultaneously famous and
notorious, because even if he tacked on a conventional moralistic
ending to many of his early works, one thing was clear and disturbing:
these characters were having fun and were not apologetic about it. He
stood for Westernizing influences, a love of technology and jazz, and a
belief that the submerged voices of the questioning young should be
heard" (Karpov viii). He was extremely popular and respectfully
considered "the spokesman of a new generation" (Proffer x). But
Khruschev included Aksyonov in a 1963 call for "renouncements of former
ideological errors" made by various artists (Johnson xv). Aksyonov
complied to this "request," and his works continued to be published in
the Soviet Union for over a decade, but "rather erratically and in
censored form" (Proffer x). Yet despite his continual struggles to
publish, "the journal of the Soviet embassy in Bonn, Sowjetunion
Heute," a formal Party publication, "said of him in March 1979, 'Today
... it can truly be said that, without him, modern Soviet prose writing
would be the poorer'" (Kasack 52). In the very same year that Aksyonov
received this strong praise, his involvement in an almanac of liberal
literature, Metropole "cost him both his Soviet career and citizenship"
(Karpov x). [SHOULD I INCLUDE DETAILS HERE, OR JUST LEAVE THEM WHERE
THEY ARE, CLOSER TO THE END?} Not only was Aksyonov encouraged to
immediately leave the country, but all of his works were removed from
libraries (Karpov x). Evidently, the Breshnev government was willing
to let this one "violation" of Soviet literary expectations injure
"modern Soviet prose writing"; in other words, if "modern Soviet prose
writing would be the poorer" without Aksyonov's works, censorship was
inappropriate, even by Soviet authorities' standards. Perhaps this
error was recognized because, yet again, the government turned around
and began publishing some of Aksyonov's formerly censored works for the
first time in 1985 [CHECK DATE] This almost overwhelming series of
changes in Aksyonov's official standing with Soviet publishing
authorities does not distinguish Aksyonov among ÈmigrÈ writers. This
amazing inconsistency has been the norm for Russian writers who attempt
to write the truth for decades. Focusing in on the specific background
and content of The Steel Bird yields a more detailed, digestible chunk
of reality. Although Aksyonov was initially a practicing doctor, he
was 33 years old and a well-established writer by 1965 when he wrote
The Steel Bird (Karpov vii-viii). He left the medical profession soon
after his first successful written contribution to Youth, a journal
which provided a fairly open forum for young, liberal Soviet writers
(Kasack 40). He was first published in 1960, and he became an editor
of the magazine in 1962 (Johnson xiv). Aksyonov's emergence in the
literary scene coincided with a growing focus on the "generation which
had come to maturity after conditions had changed," or in other words,
the adolescents and young adults of the Thaw. "They had hopes and
illusions, ones of great force and charm: the truth could be told; a
new Russia was rising from the devastation of the Stalinist past; the
new generation, unlike the old, would never allow a return to the
horrors of the past" (Proffer xi). Aksyonov expanded on this
generalization in his 1982 article comparing Tsarist and Soviet
censorship, "Looking for colour": Suddenly, from nowhere, non-idealist
Soviet writers began to spring up. My generation, who in the sixties
cam to be called 'the new voices', was born in the thirties, the very
storm centre of the world's unfreedom, when in Russia and Germany two
sorts of socialism were blooming... We entered the literary field
already possessing a feeling for freedom. Our relationship to
'sovcens' [Soviet censorship] was paradoxical. In the days of our
literary youth it went without saying that the calling of Soviet author
implied some sort of warped conscience. Compromise was a natural state
of affairs for us. It may sound strange, but as the years passed, so
compromise began to shrink, and a feeling of freedom to grow. (Aksyonov
"Looking" 3)
With apparent passion, Aksyonov became first significant leader of the
"youth problem" as he "combined the new subject-matter with experiments
(new in post-Stalin Russian literature) in form - above all that of
multiple perspective" (Kasack 40). The Steel Bird exemplifies this
flourishing creativity and also marks a dramatic step toward
unrestrained honesty. Aksyonov evidently felt a drive to expose the
truth like many of his contemporaries, including the poet Alexander
Tvardovsky, who said, "in art and literature, as in love, one can lie
only for a while; sooner or later comes the time to tell the truth"
(qtd. in Johnson xiv). However, at a 1983 conference on Russian
dissident life, Aksyonov reflected in retrospect, "Our generation
entered the literary stage with a vague perception of honesty, and -
what is probably more important - without a clearly formulated
aesthetic, without which you can hardly achieve a full scale of
expression of anything, including honesty" ("Writers in Exile" 331).
This despairing evaluation is not atypical of Aksyonov whose
post-emigration writings about Soviet and emigrant life are extremely
cynical and sarcastic ("Writers"; "Searching"; and "Residents and
Refugees"). But as he explains himself, in 1965 he felt more anger than
despair about freedom of expression. It is, therefore, likely that
Aksyonov was attempting to establish a new aesthetic in The Steel Bird,
whether consciously or not. -QUOTE-- The plot and presentation of the
novella are fast-paced and confused. It is hard to identify one
character as an antagonist or protagonist throughout the text; like
Soviet censorship, roles, loyalties, and intentions reverse and reverse
again. Aksyonov analyst Per Dalgard claims that Khruschev's direct
attack on the fairly new author "created a climate of despair. It
drove Aksenov to write satirical, grotesque and hyperbolic plays and
stories" (Dalgard 6). Aksyonov himself admits that the attack caused
major change in his work (6). (I KNOW I READ A DIRECT QUOTE ABOUT
THAT- NEED TO FIND IT) The twisted content and symbolism of The Steel
Bird certainly seems to contain direct reactions to the incident, which
is not surprising, considering the implications of Khruschev's attack.
The first "personal attack" was on a visual art exhibit but its impact
spanned all art fields (Johnson xiv). "The attack, however specific and
personal in form, was indeed a declaration of war by the old-school
realists (i.e., social idealists) on the representative of alternative
art forms (i.e., emancipatory realists, modernists, abstractionists,
etc.)" (xiv). This realist style which Aksyonov clearly rejected had
been firmly established by the Writer's Union, an organization created
by the Communist Party in 1932. Its purpose was to provide a means to
enforce censorship of all non-Soviet Realist writing. Only members of
the Union could be officially published, and to remain a member,
writers had to follow strict, yet extremely subjective guidelines.
Many concepts carried over, in slightly relaxed forms, from the
immediate post-war era. There was a long-lasting emphasis on the
"positive hero," "the exemplary ideal figure who solves all problems,
treats all obstacles as child's play, overfulfils all norms; who knows
no private life, but only service to Communist society; who (naturally)
belongs, not among the simple workers, but among the Party officials.
The cult of the leader reflects, in miniature, the cult of Stalin."
This "cult of personality" is exactly what Khruschev pledged to fight
at the beginning of his rule. But his heightened action against
liberal artists contradicted his pledge. He himself had coined the
phrase "cult of personality" in a defensive effort. He repeatedly
blamed the failings of the Communist Party on Stalin's self-centered
rule. But Khruschev's increased limitations on the arts showed his
individual beliefs and desires; Aksyonov pointed out the new "cult of
personality" sparked by Khruschev's acting on personal interests.
--MORE ON THIS- If Aksyonov did not comply with Khruschev's backwards
demands, he was threatened with loss of travel abroad opportunities,
his editorial position with Youth, and "normal publishing rights"
(xv). Although the severity of these pressures, already suggests that
Aksyonov's renouncement may not have been absolutely sincere, later
commentary nearly proves the suspicion. In 1983 he actually referenced
the affair as "Krushchev's hooligan attack on young literature and art
in 1963" ("Writers" 329). And Aksyonov certainly continued to churn
out increasingly non-conformist writings after the recantation. It is
obviously crucial to read below the surface of his public response to
Khrushchev's demand: "I like any writer... am trying to create my own
unique, positive hero who would be at the same time a true son of his
times - a man with strong bones and a normal circulatory system, a
decent, open soul, with a concept in mind concentrating into one
thought all the magnitude, optimism, and complexity of our communist
era." In The Steel Bird, Aksyonov satirically followed through with
this quest for his own "unique positive hero." The classic
characteristics of the Stalinist-era positive hero are grotesquely
manifest in Aksyonov's main character, Popenkov. Aksyonov introduces
the mysterious man-bird in the very first sentence, as "the hero of my
tale" (Aksyonov The Steel Bird 114). This reference back to his
outwardly "pro-Party" promise to find his "unique hero" indicates a
rather blatant plan to mock Khruschev. But through Popenkov and his
undoubtedly cult-like followers, Aksyonov may symbolically represent
and distort diverse Soviet flaws, beyond Khruschev. First, if Popenkov
is read as a fictionalization of Khruschev, then his decline into the
"cult of personality" is symbolized. [[I THINK, need to check,
that...]] Popenkov actually condemns the "cult of personality" but
blatantly contradicts this stance by rising to a position of labor head
/ cult leader, nearly destroying his underlings in the process. The
parallel to Khruschev is further crystallized by the parallel of the
artist. Popenkov persuades his comrades to work as pro-Party,
labor-oriented artists, just like Khruschev forced artists to "choose"
to renounce their liberal ways. MORE HERE Aksyonov's reflections back
on his writing of The Steel Bird and other works of the Thaw complicate
the picture of Soviet censorship and post-Stalin life. In a 1982
article published in England's Index on Censorship, Aksyonov explains
that as time moves on from the entirely outward censorship of
pre-Revolution Russia and from the unhidden censorship of Lenin and
Stalin, censorship has simply become more subtle and effective. Yuri
Trifonov is commonly known as one of the first authors to follow the
trend of subtlety, and carry his anti-Soviet message beneath the
surface of the literature. "Trifonov used to say that censorship
doesn't always destroy the tissues of creative art. In the course of
his struggle to save his work, a writer evolves a certain peculiar
style, weaving a subtle web, a transparent screen, from behind which a
reader can perceive the flickering of his flame" ("Looking" 3).
Aksyonov's flame burns brightly behind the thin screen of The Steel
Bird. But Aksyonov's now more negative perception of Russian
literature and the experience of the ÈmigrÈ writer cut away at these
optimistic sentiments. He displays painful weariness. In one of his
caustic contributions at Partisan Review's 1983 forum on Soviet
dissidents, he spoke about Russia's exaggerated perceptions of the
power of literature ("Writers" 347). "Soviet authorities... try to
fight against literature as if it were a very serious political enemy,
and each of us writers who have emigrated knows this through his own
experience" ("Writers" 347). A mass of literature about Russian
literature and ÈmigrÈ culture indicates that Aksyonov's frustration is
shared by many. In a publication as recent as 1992, Aksyonov concluded
an essay on refugee life with what seems to tie back to the conclusion
of The Steel Bird. In the novella, after months of dormancy, Popenkov
slowly flies up out of the apartment building rubble. The uncrushable
tyrant arises to soar over Moscow. It is not clear whether Aksyonov is
representing the triumph of dictatorial forces or something more like
the prevailing force of technological warfare. Popenkov, after all,
was a man-machine who single-handedly fell a building. Certainly, the
novella leaves ends mysteriously untied. In the 1992 essay, he links
emigrant culture and the avante-garde to the idea of homelessness; the
ÈmigrÈ artist is, unfortunately, always unsettled and on the move.
Aksyonov then concludes the essay, "The avant-garde has always sought -
often not without a degree of hypocrisy - a certain allegorical refuge,
while knowing perfectly well that its true element is allegorical
flight. It is still the same now." These allusions to flight are
actually more open-ended than those at the end of The Steel Bird. One
possible interpretation is that Aksyonov sees Russian writers as
bird-like creatures, attempting to soar above and beyond the forces of
censorship and repression. The fact that "it is still the same now"
sadly indicates that subtle censorship still reigns in Russia.
I lost the documentation for this, but I plan on finding it... The
Steel Bird can be read as an allegory of the "nature of tyranny" and
"the artist in conflict with the tyrant."
The end of Khrushchev's rule in 1964 actually brought increased
restrictions under Lenoid Brezhnev (Kasack 49).
Bibliography
Aksenov, Vasilii. "Residents and Refugees."Under Eastern Eyes: The
West as Reflected in Recent Russian Emigre Writing.ed. Arnold McMillon.
New York: St. Martin's Press, 1992.
Aksyonov, Vasily. "Looking for Colour: A Soviet Writer Compares
Tsarist and Soviet Censorship." Index on Censorship 11.4. Aug 1982. 3-4.
Aksyonov, Vassily. "The Steel Bird." 1965. The Destruction of Pompeii
and Other Stories. Trans. Rae Slonek. Ann Arbor: Ardis Publishers,
1991. 115-171.
Dalgard, Per. The Function of the Grotesque in Vasilij Aksenov, 1982.
Trans. Robert Porter. Aarhus, Denmark: Arkona, 1982.
Johnson, John J., Jr. "Introduction: The Life and Works of Aksenov."
The Steel Bird and Other Stories, by Vassily Aksenov. Ann Arbor: Ardis,
1979. ix-xxvii.
Karpov, Lena. "Introduction." The Destruction of Pompeii and Other
Stories, by Vassily Aksynov. Ann Arbor: Ardis, 1991. vii-x.
Kasack, Wolfgang. Russian Literature 1945-1988. 1998. Trans. Carol
Sandison. Munchen, Germany: Sagner, 1989.
Kustanovich, Konstantin. The Artist and the Tyrant: Vassily Aksenov's
Works in the Brezhnev Era. Columbus: Slavica Publishers, Inc., 1992.
"Writers in Exile: A Conference of Soviet and East European
Dissidents." Partisan Review 50 (1983): 327-372.
POSSIBLE ADDITIONAL WORKS:
Alekseeva, Liudmila. The thaw generation: coming of age in the
post-Stalin era. Boston: Little, Brown, 1990.
Erenburg, Ilya. The thaw. Trans. Manya Harari. Chicago: Henry Regnery,
1955.